


dynamite

by gigantic



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Crushes, Flirting, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 04:06:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16110443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigantic/pseuds/gigantic
Summary: Freddie isn't ready for Auston. Then summer comes.





	dynamite

Freddie isn’t ready for how Auston gravitates toward touch. That’s the only way he can think of it, too, like Auston is a planet drawn in by the density of others. He doesn’t always initiate, but he hovers, closer and closer, until sometimes all Freddie can do is press the backs of his fingers to Auston’s spine just to nudge him forward and make room to walk past. 

“Sorry,” Auston says, easy as anything.

Freddie thinks he’s genuine about that for a month or two. Auston’s a big guy and still growing. It’s possible he’s still adjusting to how he takes up space. Freddie is used to being someone that guys come to lean on anyway — figuratively but mostly literally — a goalie’s shoulder somehow a perpetual invite. Auston’s like anyone, even if his tendency to make Freddie stumble over him extends to off-ice moments too. 

He apologizes for getting underfoot, and Freddie says, “Don’t worry about it.” 

It isn’t a big deal. Freddie buys into the recurring mishap of it all until Marty says in the middle of practice, “It blows me away every time he does those turns in tight. He pivots like he’s one of the smaller guys.”

“Control,” Freddie says. 

Auston looks up a second later, baring teeth as his eyes slide across Freddie and Marty by the half wall. The visual overlays with any time Auston has looked over his shoulder and said, “My bad,” after Freddie’s touched his forearm because Auston has again edged into his space. 

The next time he finds Auston crowding, Freddie braces his palms on either side of Auston’s waist. 

“Watch it,” he chides, leaning forward enough to direct the warning toward Auston’s ear.

“Sorry about that.” Auston tilts his chin up and looks around, perfect pleasantness in the expression playing across his features.

Freddie doesn’t let anything on his face show a reaction other than his eyebrows, one raising. “What are you doing?” he asks. 

Auston shrugs. “Nothing,” he says but smiles a little wider. 

;;

Anything subtle about Auston’s flirting is a convenience of the way he’s never vocal about it. Proximity is his lane. He likes to joke, but it isn’t usually laced with double entendres. He’s unapologetic about saying, “You look good,” if he’s into what Freddie wears on game day, but he gives the same compliment to a handful of other teammates. 

Auston’s speed is going out with some of the team to a concert in Toronto and coming up to hook his chin over Freddie’s shoulder late in the headliner’s set. Freddie knows it’s Auston without having to check. It wouldn’t be anyone else. So close to each other, Freddie can hear him inhale deeply. He turns his face just enough to say, “Tired?”

“Yeah.” 

Auston doesn’t bother acting like he’s apologetic about being tactile. He braces Freddie’s side briefly, as if grounding himself. His face presses into the curve between Freddie’s neck and shoulder for the briefest second. Before Freddie can react, Auston rocks back again. 

Words aren’t Auston’s thing, not for this. Freddie doesn’t mind that, but silence also means an uncomfortable amount of room for interpretation. He likes the conclusion he’s coming to on his own, but it still feels like too much is unknown for him to bother giving into Auston during the season. 

Instead, in April, he says, “I’m going to California this summer. I still have things to take care of there.”

“Oh, yeah?” Auston says. They’re standing by Freddie’s car, Auston’s hip cocked to the side to keep his duffle bag up on his shoulder. “I thought you’d be overseas. Is it a quick trip to SoCal?”

“A little while.”

Auston nods. “Maybe I’ll visit.”

He’s squinting, face half-scrunched as the sun beams down on them, but it still looks something like a smile. 

Freddie says, “Maybe you should.”

;;

Bandanas are Auston’s summer look. “Just add roller blades. You’d fit into those 90s shows. The sitcoms.”

“Saved by the Bell?” 

“Sure.”

“No,” Auston immediately protests, even though he set himself up for it. “Nooo, I’m better than that.”

If they were still in Toronto, the style would be too quirky — the cut-off denim with the jagged hem, the oversized print shirt. The look makes more sense on the west coast, silhouetted in orange-pink sunsets. He keeps the bandana on even after Freddie says, “Come to dinner with me,” and still manages to fit into the upscale patio atmosphere at the restaurant.

Auston’s in town for the weekend with his friend. JT’s cool. He makes Auston laugh a lot. Freddie finds his eyes drawn to Auston’s face over and over, taking in his open-mouthed smile. 

The three of them sit around talking for so long that Freddie starts assuming this is how the night will go. He’s almost surprised when JT finally finishes his glass of water and says, “Alright, I have to hit the road.” He pats his thighs, checking for keys as he stands. “Aust, you want to ride with me, or…?”

“Where are you going again?” 

“To meet up with my cousin really quick,” JT says. “I promised I’d visit him.”

Auston tilts his head one way and then the other gently, weighing it. The glance he sends Freddie’s way adds 100 new possibilities to the evening.

Freddie says, “I can just head back to my—“

“No, I said we’d hang out,” Auston says. He looks to JT. “I’ll catch you later? We can Lyft it.”

They clap their hands together quickly, saying goodbyes. Before JT ducks out, Freddie orders two more drinks and then slides one Auston’s way when they arrive.

“Stealth,” Auston says. 

“I’m a chaperone. You’re allowed.” Freddie nudges Auston’s leg with his shoe. “Enjoy.”

“Chaperone,” Auston asks as they toast. “Is that what this is?”

He smiles softly, mischievous in the way that it’s _not_ a smirk. Freddie shrugs. Auston swigs from his glass without looking away. 

“Where are we going after this?” Freddie asks.

Auston hums as he swallows and sets his drink down. “Mm,” he says, thoughtful. “We know no one’s at my AirBnB right now.”

Freddie’s laughter comes out stuttered, tripped up by the way his brain registers shock late. “You’re shameless.”

“I’m just saying.”

;;

Auston is fearless. Freddie might’ve guessed that by the way he plays, but he knows for sure when they get into Auston’s rental and he says, “Do you want to fuck me? I would.”

It’s so suddenly forthright that Freddie finds his mouth tugging to the side. “And what if I don’t want that?”

Auston toes off his shoes and rests a hand on his hip. “You don’t want to—“ He gestures to himself.

“What if I want something else?” Freddie asks.

The way Auston waves his hand makes it seem like he doesn’t care, but Freddie doesn’t miss how his eyes dart away and back. He opens his stance when Freddie steps closer though, as bold as ever.

“You’re not one of those whips and chains guys, are you?” Auston asks.

Freddie snorts and dips forward. He hopes the simplest approach is the most surprising. 

Closer. Closer. Auston lets out an uneven, rewarding gasp as their mouths meet.

He’s been waiting months for this exact moment. Freddie wouldn’t have called it waiting, if asked, but he now feels every moment of anticipation acutely as Auston parts his lips and kisses him back. 

His palm trails along Auston’s side and around to his back to push, bringing their bodies flush. Auston moans once or twice, these short, smooth bursts of sound that he strangles before they can bloom. He’s not shaking, at least not that Freddie can feel through clothes, but the way he tries to contain his sounds makes Freddie wonder if he’s nervous. 

“You okay?” Freddie asks. “Can I want that?”

Nodding, Auston breathes, “Yeah—yeah.”

Freddie slides his hand down, skimming the curve of Auston’s ass through his pants. Auston pushes in for another kiss, and then a third. If they keep trying to get closer, Freddie thinks he’ll lose his balance.

“Which room is yours?”

“Right, yeah. Here.” Auston spins on his heels but reaches back for Freddie’s hand in the same motion.

The gesture is smooth. Freddie doesn’t say anything, content to let Auston speak at random about finding the AirBnB and how he and JT flipped a coin for the master. Freddie appreciates the way their fingers look linked together. 

He only drops Auston’s hand to move in more as they walk into a bedroom. Freddie slides his arms around Auston from behind to reach for his fly, unbuttoning the top and sliding down the zipper. 

Auston twists in the circle of Freddie’s reach, smiling. “Wow, okay,” he murmurs, trying to return the favor as they shuffle toward the bed. “Guess you want the rest of this after all?”

“Guess so.” Freddie curls his finger underneath Auston’s shirt and pulls it up over his head. Auston is unabashedly excited as he’s pushed down onto the mattress. 

Freddie finds that his favorite thing about fucking Auston that night is all the sounds Auston makes throughout. Not words. For the most part, Auston doesn’t try to talk dirty. He doesn’t say much at all, but he stops being careful about his groans and sighs. The confidence is back to full force in the way he moves, arching into any touch he seems to love while his moans fill up the room.

They forgot to turn on the light when they stumbled in here, so Freddie can’t see it perfectly when he presses inside Auston, but he can hear the way the slide makes Auston feel. It’s a nice complement to the delicious warmth Freddie has around his cock and spreading through his belly.

Auston digs his fingers in wherever he can reach, trying to roll his hips to meet Freddie’s thrusts. The sound of the ocean outside is too languid to add to the rhythm, but the low rush of waves still feels like it resonates with the thump of Freddie’s heart. 

Thrusting in and out of Auston is intoxicating. Darkness and body heat and the lingering scent of his cologne clinging to his skin are all hitting Freddie just right, tied together with the deep, earnest way Auston moans. Sometimes it sounds like Freddie’s name, a small plea or gratitude. He does his best to oblige each one, kissing Auston and touching his cock until he comes apart first. 

Freddie shortens the stroke of his hips. Auston groans a little but ultimately just swallows and reaches for Freddie’s bicep, holding on. He keeps his eyes closed, forehead unwrinkled after orgasm. The light cutting in from outside of the bedroom only catches part of Auston’s face. He looks peaceful in that way everyone gets immediately after coming. 

Freddie drops to kiss his cheek. “Don’t fall asleep.”

Auston chuckles airily. He sort of pauses with his lips parted, caught. Eventually he sighs and says, “Just taking it in.” 

“Good,” Freddie says and rocks forward until he gets there, too.

;;

A lot of cool shit has happened in Freddie’s life so far. He spent most of his first two years in the NHL awed by his experiences, the successes and even some of the failures, just because he was doing it all professionally. The surreality of playing in the league hasn’t worn off, exactly, but sometimes it’s the moments in between the hockey that give him those brief out-of-body feelings now, related but a step removed.

Example: He wakes up in a beachfront house on the west coast, waves still cresting outside and Auston naked in bed next to him. None of this would be happening at this exact moment if he’d chased a different dream. Surreal. 

Freddie stretches out and slips from under the covers to head to the master bathroom. He pees, gargles water and then splashes some on his face to perk up. His head doesn’t hurt, but he has that next day fuzziness that comes with mixing alcohol.

When Freddie goes back into the bedroom, Auston’s gone. The bedroom door is ajar. Faint noises that sound like someone moving around in the kitchen filter in, so Freddie gets back into bed and lounges, unconcerned. He stares up at the sky, hazy with morning clouds, and half-listens to gull chirps war with the indistinct murmur of voices in another part of the house. 

Auston pads back into the room in his boxer briefs, drinking from a tall cup. He climbs into bed and knee-walks up until he can settle right beside Freddie’s hip and offer his drink.

“What’s that?” Freddie asks, propping up to peer over the opaque plastic. 

“Orange juice.” Auston lets him take it and sip. “JT was downstairs. I thought he might still be asleep, but.” He shrugs. “He knows you’re here.” 

The tone is casual, but the eye contact feels deliberate. Auston doesn’t really have tells and yet sitting on his knees, watching Freddie share his orange juice, is the first thing that makes him seem younger in a way that matters. 

“Really?” Freddie prompts. “What’d he say?”

Auston shrugs only one shoulder this time. “He’s cool.”

Nodding, Freddie passes back the juice. He feels like his response matters here. Again, surreal. He can see the shape of this moment. They had a good, easy night and good sex, and yet Freddie knows there’s a wrong answer.

Auston takes another drink, then passes back to Freddie to finish it off. Freddie isn’t entirely sure he’s puzzled out the question by the time he sets the empty cup on the bedside table, but he does know he wants to reach for Auston’s skin again with more light in the room. 

Freddie tugs Auston as he lies back down, pulling him on top. “Guess you don’t have to pretend you’re alone in here, then,” he says. 

Auston scoffs. “Guess not.”

;;

They don’t stay in. It’s hard to justify when the morning hunger pangs start and neither one of them plans to cook anything. 

“You don’t want to try to impress me?” Freddie teases. “Not even some of those, uh. The instant waffles in the toaster?”

Auston shakes his head and pushes at Freddie’s shoulder as they’re on pulling clothes. “You can eat frozen waffles if you want. I’m going to breakfast.” 

JT joins them for food. “This and then yoga,” he says while they’re walking to some spot Auston looked up on his phone. “I’m trying to stay in perfect balance all summer. Meals, fitness, spirituality. It’s all connected.”

“He discovered Core Power and SoulCycle, and it’s all he talks about right now,” Auston says.

“I’m just trying to get right.” JT holds out his hands. “I’m trying to offer, man. You have to receive.”

“I want to receive some eggs soon.” Auston laughs at the way JT rolls his eyes.

Freddie’s content to hang back and watch them rib each other. It’s a banter good for zoning out on, enjoying the chill in the air before the cloud cover burns off completely. Auston looks over his shoulder once, checking, and Freddie reaches out to touch the small of his back through his shirt, reassuring him. 

Auston looks back again, this time with his eyebrows raised.

“Have you ever had an acai bowl? I’m telling you. Bliss,” JT says. “Auston.”

Freddie leaves his hand there until they need to jog across the street to make the light. 

Breakfast is pretty tasty. Freddie’s full and content when his plate is clear, ready to find somewhere to lie down again and spend the rest of the day enjoying no schedule.

“Sure you don’t want to work out?” JT asks. He leans back to let the waiter remove their plates. “Thank you, man.”

Freddie can worry about his fitness any time after today. “Next time,” he says. 

“Never,” Auston says, pretending to shield his comment from JT with a hand barely cupping around his mouth.

JT just shakes his head and says, “I’ll convince you. You’ll open yourself to it eventually.”

They part ways outside, JT leaving for his class while Auston jerks his head toward the beach. Freddie nods but says, “I need shorts, though.”

“You want to me dress you?” Auston asks, instantly brightening. 

“In shorts,” Freddie says. “The rest of my style is fine.”

Auston laughs but insists on their stroll back that he’d be a great stylist. “Even for someone like you. Even good style can be improved.”

“Says the man in the head wrap.”

“They’re in again,” Auston says, clearly appalled that Freddie doesn’t find this obvious. 

He really does look straight out of the past, but Freddie’s still intrigued. Charisma will do that for a person. Freddie likes to think he’s mature, but he isn’t particularly immune. He hasn’t yet managed to tell Auston no to anything. The best he’s been able to manage is delaying a yes. They’re still here with one another. Freddie still doesn’t resist letting Auston take pictures and boomerangs of their beach excursion even though it means people will know they spent more than a day together. It’s not exposing, but it shoves the surreal firmly into the rest of the world.

Freddie goes along with all of it until he gets tired of having to narrow his eyes to look up at Auston from the sand. He grazes his fingertips along Auston’s thigh, one long stroke that could be easily dismissed if he didn't mean it so intentionally.

“What if I want to go back inside?” he asks.

“What if,” Auston repeats and looks back toward the beach house. 

Freddie slides his finger over the same strip of skin, satisfied when Auston’s eyes snap down to watch the pads make impermanent dips on his thigh. He raises his gaze enough to catch Freddie’s. 

“Hm?” Freddie asks. 

“Yeah,” Auston says, reedy, and clears his throat. “We can do that.”

;;

Auston needs to learn how to be kissed. He’s good at it, that’s not the problem, but he moves like he’s already one step ahead of himself—kissing leads to stripping leads to caressing skin leads to—

“Relax,” Freddie says. He nuzzles Auston’s neck, bracing his teeth over the spot where his pulse thrums. 

Auston whines. “Touch me.”

“I am.” Freddie has one hand on Auston’s face and the other at his ribs.

“You know,” Auston protests, squirming on top of Freddie to find friction. “You know what I mean.”

Freddie rolls them over and settles between Auston’s legs, finding his lips again. He indulges himself, slow and deliberate. “I like kissing you,” he says, whispering it against Auston’s mouth in between rounds.

Auston fists his hands in the back of Freddie’s shorts — Auston’s shorts — tugging with no real force. Futile. Freddie gets it. He’s hard too, and he’s been Auston in the past, eager for release, but he also likes how hypnotic making out is in this bed, in this city, in a place they don’t really have any reason to be together.

He kisses Auston until they’re both soft and starts from scratch, riling him up again. Even then, Freddie only cups Auston’s cock through his shorts and teases him that way. Freddie plays with him, encircling through fabric and stroking in short, sporadic jerks until Auston calls out, “What the _fuck_ ,” so desperately that their teeth click on the kiss because Freddie’s grinning. 

“Ready?” he asks.

“I swear to God,” Auston promises, but he never finishes the threat. 

Freddie shifts down to put his mouth on Auston over his shorts, sucking on the head through the small wet spot darkening the cotton. Auston lets out a whimper and clenches his fist in the bedding. 

“Yes, yes,” Auston says when Freddie pulls the shorts down, getting his mouth on Auston’s cock for real. Moans replace his sounds of frustration. There’s nothing tame or unsure about the way he touches Freddie’s hair, flexing when Freddie focuses suction around the crown. 

Freddie gets three frantic whacks on his shoulder and a broken, “I’m—” when Auston’s close. He pulls back and jerks Auston off, happy to watch come pulse from his cock. A pearly mess dribbles over Auston’s stomach and over Freddie’s fingers. He leans in to kiss the head, running his tongue over the slit just to watch Auston’s eyes go wide as his cock twitches.

Auston spreads his legs more when Freddie pushes at his thigh. He’s liquid satisfaction right now, sighing when Freddie’s fingers slide into him, using Auston’s own spunk as lube. He adds more slick when he’s ready to work his way up and position himself to push inside. Auston moves to his knees, and Freddie maps the dip of his spine with slippery fingers. 

;;

“Smoothiiiiiies!” yelled throughout the house followed by a door slamming shut is how they find out when JT gets back.

Freddie dozes after sex most of the time. He’s one of those guys. If he has the luxury of time, he’ll drift off for a few minutes. JT shouting jolts him awake, and Auston laughs softly somewhere nearby. 

It takes a moment to recognize the situation: he’s partially covered by a sheet, Auston’s sitting in a robe. His hair looks wet. The sun hasn’t set. 

“How long was I down?” he asks.

“I don’t know. Thirty minutes? Not long,” Auston says, distracted by the TV in the corner and flipping through channels idly. He gives up after a moment and drops the remote control on the bed, moving to stand. “I’ll see what he brought. There’s still a second robe in the bathroom, if you want to go, you know, get clean.”

Freddie likes that plan. He hops in the shower to lather once and rinse off the most telling things about their afternoon. 

Still, JT looks suspicious when Freddie finds his way to the kitchen in a matching robe. “Cozy.”

“I told you, we went to the beach,” Auston says in spite of the grin on his face implying a different story. “Saltwater and everything. You have to wash it off.” He has a drink in his hand, and he tries to muffle his amusement by focusing on his straw. 

“So I’ve heard,” JT says. 

Freddie pushes at the drink container still sitting on the counter, one smoothie left. “What are these?”

“That’s yours.” JT nudges the whole carton toward Freddie. “Paige, this girl in my yoga class, convinced me to try these from the place next door. It’s got your ashwagandha and vitamins in it, but it tastes so good. I just got some for everybody.” 

“It’s not bad,” Auston says. “You’ll probably like it.”

“Really? You’re sure?” Freddie asks, just to see if Auston waffles after having his presumptuousness called out. 

He budges a little, saying, “Well, you know,” but recovers quicker than Freddie thinks a lot of younger guys would. “If you don’t, this was all JT’s fault anyway.”

“Hey,” JT says, flicking a balled up straw wrapper. Auston dodges it by stepping closer to Freddie. He keeps bracing his teeth around his straw, not quite biting it, but the pose still makes him look cheeky, then cute, then somehow suggestive when he gives his attention to Freddie completely.

“Well?”

Freddie tastes the smoothie and licks his lips. “Good.”

“So I was right. I know something about what you like.”

“Don’t get cocky.”

The wattage of Auston’s smile increases anyway. 

“I told you guys,” JT says. “It’s amazing.”

Freddie holds Auston’s attention as JT starts mentioning the rest of the ingredients. Auston’s robe is knotted but loosely enough that the threat of a gap is enticing. Freddie hooks his hand over the soft belt and tugs to expose a little more skin. Auston’s eyes drop down and come right back up, impressively calm otherwise. The height of the bar-style counter shields the move from view, but Freddie still thinks he should be careful. Flirting with Auston is dangerous, because Freddie’s learning Auston will let him keep going farther.

He lets go to tune into JT’s words again.

Putting more effort into staying respectable in shared company helps Freddie make it through the evening. JT and Auston are funny in different ways and clearly close. It’s nice to laugh along with them. They opt to order in for dinner and watch a horror movie on-demand that sounds promising but ends up being so bad it at least becomes hilarious. 

JT calls it a night as soon as the credits roll, because he’s determined to get up at sunrise and exercise on the beach. 

“I can guarantee I won’t be awake to go with,” Auston says.

JT laughs but tells him, “Every hour you sleep, you can’t get back. That’s all I’ll say.”

“What if I stay up late? Then we balance out.”

“Man,” JT says and waves him off. “Through with you. Goodnight.” 

Freddie helps Auston clear the dinner containers and toss out the trash. Spending the second half of the day in robes is beyond indulgent but perfect for a summer night in Southern California. He flops down on the bed back in the master, and Auston falls down next to him. They stare up at the ceiling together.

This could be the moment. If there’s any instance for awkwardness to creep in, it’s the space between a dinnertime activity and not yet deciding if they’re going to have sex again. 

Auston just reaches for his phone, left on a pillow earlier. He opens Instagram and thumbs through photos. Freddie isn’t actively watching until he sees Auston get hung up on browsing tattoo artists’ profiles. 

“Are you planning to get one?” Freddie asks.

“I want a lot.” Auston taps into one photo and tilts his screen to give Freddie a better view. “Look at this. Sick, right?”

“It’s cool.” There are a lot of sharp lines and more geometric shapes. It looks interesting, but he can’t really picture the style on Auston’s skin. “Where do you want to get them?”

“Anywhere.” Auston keeps scrolling and tapping. “Arms are a big one, but I guess that’s obvious. I like when people have the half-sleeve, though. Or, I don’t know, maybe a full.”

“Big commitment.”

Auston considers one of the photos and eventually says, “But it’d be dope.”

“Yeah,” Freddie says. “I can imagine it. You’d look good.”

Auston’s head rocks to the side. He looks at Freddie and nudges him with an elbow. “Would you get one? You could pull off a lot of ink.”

“I’m okay.” 

“For real.” Auston props on his elbow, abandoning his phone again. He pushes the lapels of Freddie’s robe aside and flattens his palm right over Freddie’s sternum. “Big chest piece, right here.”

Freddie finds himself grinning up at the popcorn ceiling. “Too over the top.”

“You want to start smaller?” Auston asks, trailing his hand down. “You can do your back. Waist — though I don’t think a lot of guys start there.” He pulls apart Freddie’s robe more, laying him bare. “Do you want something you can cover up? Go hidden.”

Freddie doesn’t answer, curious to see how far Auston pushes on his own. He hesitates for a moment when he gets to the start of Freddie’s thigh, middle finger dragging forth and then back across the slope of skin as Freddie bends his leg just so. 

Auston glances to Freddie’s face, clearly searching, but Freddie doesn’t offer a prompt. It takes a beat, but Auston catches on to how perfectly maintained Freddie’s expression is. He slips his fingers lower, dragging across Freddie’s inner thigh. He cups Freddie’s balls, massaging, and then trails his touch lower still and doesn’t take his eyes off of Freddie’s.

Breath betrays Freddie. Slightly. Just enough. His inhale hitches as Auston finds his rim, but he exhales evenly. 

“Can I?” Auston asks, gently swiping the pad of his finger over sensitive skin.

Freddie waits him out for another moment, then finally says, “Not dry.”

“ _Duh_.” Auston gives up on finesse to search for the lube lost in the bedding this afternoon. His murmured, “Yeesss,” as he finds it inspires a smile in Freddie that he doesn’t bother stifling.

Auston’s fingers are wet and slippery the next time he touches Freddie, circling. He pushes his finger inside slowly, still gauging Freddie’s reaction. It’s so careful it’s endearing, but Auston’s more exploratory than timid. He’s taking his time because he wants to watch, not because he’s scared. Freddie can see it in his face, the way he continues to press deeper and then look up for any changes in expression.

“You’re good,” Freddie says, because he also wants to really feel it now. “Do two.”

“Already? Ambitious,” Auston chirps. He obliges. 

Freddie’s cock swells gradually, worked up by the slide of Auston’s fingers and the intimacy of the whole scene. Getting fucked would be hot but letting Auston feel and play, figuring out which touches make Freddie groan, that feels heady. He cants his hips, meeting Auston’s thrusts. The glee is plain on Auston’s face, lip tucking between his teeth. 

“I could make you come like this,” he says, somewhere between a wish and promise. 

Freddie sighs. “You could try.”

Auston curls his other hand around Freddie’s cock. Freddie paws for the lube and adds more. The faint squelch each time Auston’s grip drags up to the head just adds to the atmosphere. Soft words between them jab at the quiet intermittently, but for the most part it’s the sound of skin and Freddie’s low moaning when Auston gets him just right. 

“Tighter,” Freddie says. 

Auston shifts onto his knees, resituating without pulling away. One side of his robe has practically given up, Auston’s erection obvious as he works Freddie over. That’s somehow hotter, Auston so hard there’s no way he’s not throbbing, but he stays focused, coaxing Freddie toward orgasm. 

“Curl your fingers. A little,” Freddie tells him. His spine tingles when Auston rubs over it. Right there. “Right there. Do it again.”

Freddie shudders. 

“Is that—?” Auston starts.

“Yeah.” Freddie huffs, breaths too shallow to act entirely calm. “Keep going. You’ve got it.”

Auston doesn’t have to be coached much. Once he knows the objective, he gives his best work. His fingers rub inside until Freddie’s thigh muscles flex and lock up, and then he eases back to give Freddie a reprieve. His hand on Freddie’s hard cock glides steadily, perfect. 

He’s not quite edging Freddie, but his purposeful pauses keep Freddie thrumming like a guitar chord resonating from his core, outward. It’s such a consistent intensity, pummeling him until coming is almost a surprise.

“Fuck,” he grits out. Auston starts to slow up, marveling. “No, no, no, just.” He’s not done. He can sense it. “Your fist. Keep going.”

Auston starts jerking him again, smearing lube and come. “Like that?”

Freddie nods and bucks. It’s more encouraging than violent reflex, a body roll that turns to a shake when more come spurts out of his cock.

“Shit.” Auston sounds awed. “Twice?”

Freddie breathes all the way out and pants. He can’t quite manage a laugh, a dazed gust punching from him instead. “Good try.”

“Holy shit.” Auston pulls his fingers out and crawls over Freddie. “That was so fucking hot.” He smiles down at Freddie’s face, hands planted on either side of his head for balance. “You came two times.”

“It’s your fault,” Freddie says, hooking an arm around Auston to tug him down for a kiss.

“I know!” Auston mumbles. “My point.”

“Shh,” Freddie says as their lips brush. “Your turn now.”

;;

The difference between morning after one and two is that Freddie wakes up with Auston’s arm across his chest this time. He reaches for the weight over him instinctively, before he even opens his eyes, and his brain puts the pieces together on a slight delay again. Skin, Auston, California, sex—and this. Cuddling.

Freddie turns onto his side, not dislodging Auston’s loose hold. He traces Auston’s nose with his finger, swipes over his cheek and comes to rest his palm against the side of his face. Auston’s hair is soft under his fingers, so Freddie follows the urge to track upwards, stroking through the strands until Auston grumbles sleepily and cracks his eyes open.

“You were snoring,” Freddie says and half-smiles at the indignant twist of Auston’s features.

He says, “I don’t snore,” and tilts his face to nip at the heel of Freddie’s hand, gently admonishing.

Freddie lifts his hand to dodge a second bite. Instead he drops it on Auston’s shoulder, rubbing over the curve.

“We can wash clothes here, can’t we?” he asks. He’s assumed that’s what the small room attached to the kitchen is for, but he hasn’t investigated to find out if there really is a washer and dryer hidden. The sheets could use some attention, though.

Auston yawns and says, “Yeah,” as he exhales. “Okay, I’m up. I’m up.”

“Shower first,” Freddie says. 

“Look at you.” Auston’s voice is all morning gravel. “So alert first thing.”

He still gets out of bed. They strip the sheets before they go into the bathroom and get the water running. Auston mildly protests being awake by sliding his arms around Freddie’s middle and resting his cheek against Freddie’s spine. 

“Going back to sleep?” Freddie jokes.

“Yes,” is all he gets in answer, a tired wisp of a word. 

Freddie lets Auston cling until he needs to wash his back. Auston makes an effort to really get cleaned up, too. He’s being purposefully sluggish about it, which shouldn’t be charming, but Freddie still takes the soap and wipes across Auston’s chest. He works up a lather, touching freely, and Auston presses into his fingers and hands throughout.

“Don’t tip over,” Freddie says, bracing Auston’s torso.

Auston sighs. “You’ll catch me.”

He leans harder, like he might test that theory. Freddie encircles him with one arm, allowing it. He hugs Auston to hold him upright and kisses Auston’s face.

“You’re the one who has to catch a flight in a little while,” Freddie says. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Auston straightens again. “We should’ve booked another day.”

Freddie smiles. “Now you know for next time.”

Taking Auston right back to bed seems tempting. As they step out of the shower, Freddie’s glad they thought to put the sheets in a pile beforehand. He scoops up his robe, shrugs it on and waits for Auston to do the same before helping to carry the bedding to the laundry room. 

“I’ve got it,” Auston says once he’s at the washer. He takes over on loading and peruses a cabinet above them to find detergent. 

Freddie hops on the dryer while he waits. “You sure you know what you’re doing?”

Auston fixes him with a look. “I know how to do laundry.”

“It takes some guys in the league awhile.” He nudges the side of Auston’s knee with his foot.

“My dad wouldn’t’ve let me get away with that.”

Auston measures out the liquid detergent and punches at settings on the washer until he figures out how to make the machine do what he wants. When the door lock clicks shut from inside and they can hear water running, Auston raises both hands in the air slowly in triumph.

“Congratulations,” Freddie says, unable to hide his amusement. Auston twists and plants his hand on Freddie’s knees as he brings his arms down, the rest of his body quickly shifting, following suit. Freddie widens the gap between his thighs to accommodate Auston’s width.

With a good thirty minutes before the cycle finishes, they don’t have to do anything but stare at each other if they don’t want. Auston cranes forward and noses at Freddie’s neck, his jaw. He makes an unhurried trip up to Freddie’s mouth and kisses like he’s asking permission.

Freddie pulls away enough to see Auston’s face better. Auston sniffs, cutting his eyes up. Freddie watches him blink once, twice, and leans in again to press their lips together when he can’t satisfy whatever his brain is trying to solve in Auston’s expression.

Auston trying to halfway rest on Freddie’s shoulder and kiss him at the same time puts their heads at an awkward tilt. Coaxing him to stand tall by cupping his cheeks feels both indulgent and necessary. Auston moans — a light sound, the joy in it betrayed by the way it slips out pitched a note too high.

Breaking apart for air feels nearly criminal. 

They can’t quite move back for a spell, trading exhales. Somewhere in those shallow gusts of breath, Auston asks, “Next time?”

It’s been ten minutes, but he asks as if he hasn’t missed a beat since their quips in the shower. Freddie tucks a quick kiss to the corner of Auston’s mouth. “What about it?”

“I wasn’t sure if it was meant like a —-” Auston drums his fingers on Freddie’s thigh. “I don’t know.” He lets Freddie kiss him full-on, getting better at letting a moment ride. “I waited all season.”

It feels a little mind-blowing to hear it said out loud. Months of flirting and wondering if, or having a pretty good hunch, all confirmed. 

“You could’ve just asked me,” Freddie points out. 

“You could’ve just fucked me.” Auston opts for an accusatory glare over a pout, and it makes Freddie laugh. 

“Come here.”

He kisses Auston more thoroughly, basking in the softness of his mouth. Auston asks, “What about the rest of summer?” A kiss is easier than an answer. “What about Toronto?” Another kiss. Auston groans. He puts emphasis behind it when he says, “Fred. I _like_ you.”

Freddie can relate to the mix of frustration and pure want in Auston’s voice. It would be easier in the long run if any part of this was hard. A couple days of sex and offseason secrets aren’t as scary as being able to picture being tangled in each other like this every day. 

He kisses Auston a fourth time just to make it clear he’s listening. 

“Freddie,” Auston says, stopping short of a plea. 

“Next time,” Freddie whispers against Auston’s mouth. “I meant it.” 

He doesn’t know when, where or what kind of complications it could bring them, but he really does mean it. Auston makes it too easy to be infatuated right back. Freddie wants him. 

;;

Auston and JT get things sorted out to leave by the early afternoon. Riding to LAX with them would take Freddie even farther away from where he’s staying, so he says his goodbyes at the rental house and keeps them company on the curb while they wait for their car.

“It was great hanging,” JT says. 

Freddie catches his hand when he holds it out for a friendly shake. “Thanks for letting me crash your weekend,” he says, and JT turns the handshake into a loose hug.

“Hey, no problem. His people are my people. We’re family now.”

“You just met him,” Auston says, and JT shrugs.

“We have a connection.” He gestures between him and Freddie. “It’s smoothie-based, built on promoting health. We’ll deepen it to something cosmic when I get to visit Toronto.”

Auston laughs. “Fuck you for saying that with a straight face.” He rocks into JT, who smiles as soon as he’s called out. Turning to Freddie, Auston says, “What about thanking me? It was my bed.”

“Thank you, Auston,” Freddie says obediently. He rests his hand against Auston’s waist and drifts forward, close enough to kiss. His mouth tingles with the possibility. He doesn’t do it, but he could, and knowing that Auston would let him is nearly as good. 

“How are you gonna repay me?” Auston asks.

Freddie says, “I’ll think about it before we get to Toronto.”

Auston’s smile stretches wide enough to challenge the Cheshire Cat’s. “Maybe you should stop in Arizona before you fly to Denmark.”

That flight pattern doesn’t make any sense, but Freddie appreciates the audacity. “Maybe I will.”

**Author's Note:**

> This plays a little fast and loose with canon's timeline but obviously incorporates real warm weather Freddie and Auston shenanigans. Many thanks to M for indulging me, as always.


End file.
